


impatience

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (Both Intentional and Not), Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Snapchat, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It boils down to this; he has a crush on Kyoutani Kentarou, and instead of being granted the sweet release of death, he gets a constant stream of shirtless pictures instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	impatience

Yahaba isn't sure how much more of this he can actually take. He's not sure how he got into the situation of Kyoutani, his teammate and sometimes good friend, sending him at least three suggestive pictures a day.

Well, suggestive by Yahaba's standards, at least. Suggestive because it seems like Kyoutani doesn't have the good sense to be shy about what he looks like without a shirt on, or when he finishes going for a run, or when he gets out of the _shower_ …

It's all the more frustrating for how idle it seems to be to Kyoutani. He sends snapchats with the most mundane thoughts and questions attached, always hovering over an unfairly perfect image of his abs, or sweat starting to bead on the back of his neck, or something else that will make Yahaba's face flush embarrassingly while his heart trips through a thousand different rhythms in his chest. Kyoutani isn't even trying to torture him, he's pretty sure, he's just found a way to do it with no effort involved.

And it isn't like Yahaba can take screenshots of every time Kyoutani asks if they're going to practice serving, or if he wants to get dinner. Not without seeming like he's being weird about something perfectly normal.

Which he isn't, of course. He's not being weird about this at all.

He's just… standing in the middle of the corridor at the mall, with his phone clutched so tightly in his hand that it's liable to break. The picture of Kyoutani holding his dog, Nala, a golden retriever, and not a small one, in one of his arms and grinning at the camera, blinks off his screen in a few scant seconds, and Yahaba didn't even have the presence of mind to actually read whatever question was attached, meaning he'll have to just look at the stupid picture again.

Who even hoists their dog up in the air while totally naked to the waist? Without him noticing, Watari has already made it a dozen or so meters ahead of him and is now stopped, his head tilted slightly at Yahaba. “What are you doing?”

The very eloquent explanation that Yahaba has in his head comes out of his mouth as a sort of upset whimpering noise and Watari goes from looking confused to grinning at him. Yahaba whines again, gesturing at his phone. Watari laughs at him, waiting for Yahaba to catch up, sticking his phone back in his pocket before he's tempted to look at the stupid picture again.

“What was it this time?” Watari asks, tucking his hands in his pockets and surveying Yahaba's likely red cheeks with an unfair amount of enjoyment on his face.

“He was holding his dog! Shirtless! Who even does that?” He groans, pressing both of his hands into his face, shaking his head hard. “And why does he only send them to me?”

“Because you always answer him,” Watari shrugs, but there's a twinkle in his eye that makes it obvious that isn't his whole answer to the question. Yahaba frowns, sliding his phone back out and unlocking it with a sigh. “Are you looking at it again?”

“I didn't read the message,” Yahaba snaps, shooting Watari a glare when he laughs. He doesn't feel bad for clicking the app open once again, holding the little bar of Kyoutani's name to replay the image.

He does feel bad when he gets stuck staring at Kyoutani's stomach again for a few seconds before he remembers to actually read what it says. 'don't forget you owe me kara age'

Of course. For the race he lost three days ago—he actually had forgotten about the bet. He slides his phone away again, huffing out an annoyed breath when Watari raises both of his eyebrows.

“I have to get Lawson's for him.” He waves a hand in the air, trying to dismiss the whole issue even though it's been hanging over him for months.

It boils down to this; he has a crush on Kyoutani Kentarou, and instead of being granted the sweet release of death, he gets a constant stream of shirtless pictures instead.

Watari has him figured out, but that's been true from day one. It's rare that Yahaba even tries to keep secrets form Watari anymore, given that he seems able to read minds when he feels like it.

“Remind me again why you won't ask him on a date,” Watari says, his tone easy and conversational as the two of them walk into the sports store that brought them into this mall in the first place. Yahaba wanted to check the supply of muscle tape since Oikawa had mentioned they have more than just the obnoxious colors usually stocked.

He frowns, shaking his head at the suggestion. “He's not interested in me.”

Watari hums in the back of his throat but rolls his eyes at the same time. They've had this argument a dozen times before, so Yahaba isn't surprised by the answer.

* * * 

It's not often that Yahaba has his phone out while he's in class. He does now only because he and Kyoutani have their standing movie night, and they've been arguing all day over what to watch.

There's a new supernatural thriller at the rental box they always use, and Yahaba has been trying to bully Kyoutani into going to pick it up all day long. Kyoutani isn't any kind of a fan of horror movies, especially ones involving ghosts. Despite the fact that he maintains he doesn't believe in ghosts, he seems plenty afraid of them. 

But, true to form, Kyoutani has continued their bickering on snapchat, and Yahaba is almost dreading opening the message.

Which is why he has his phone out in class, tucked under the desk and laying on his thigh as he clicks the picture open.

It's a selfie, of course, featuring Kyoutani frowning and obviously fresh from a shower. His usual eyeliner is absent, making his eyes seem more open and warm than usual, even with the glower on his face, and he has a towel draped over the back of his neck.

'no stupid ghost movies' the caption reads, and Yahaba barely catches it because he's staring at the warm pink skin at the base of Kyoutani's neck and thinking about biting it…

The girl next to him coughs and Yahaba startles so badly he nearly drops his phone to the floor. He lifts his head for a peek around the room just to make sure he wasn't sitting in his seat groaning about Kyoutani and his stupid neck and the stupid freckle on his collarbone.

But no one else is looking at him, and Yahaba sighs out in a mixture of impatience and relief, putting his phone away and leaning his hand on his chin. He can't help the slight jiggling of his leg under the desk, due mostly to the fact that he doesn't care what movie they watch at this point, he just wants an evening with Kyoutani.

It's stupid—they'll watch the movie and probably argue over the ending and throw popcorn at each other. They've been doing the same thing every Monday for the better part of a year, there's no reason that Yahaba should be so excited about it.

Except for the fact that he apparently has it much worse than he thought for Kyoutani. It's a tiny detail, really. He practically dies whenever another one of those ridiculous snapchats shows up in his inbox, he lays awake and considers in embarrassing detail how he could best go about asking Kyoutani on a Real, Actual Date.

Yahaba presses his thumb hard into his temple, trying to distract himself from the stupid circle of his thoughts. Kyoutani isn't interested in him. He's not flirting, Yahaba knows, he just lacks a fully developed sense of shame.

(Not that he really needs one, with a body like that.)

* * * 

“Are you really making me watch a romcom with you?” Yahaba huffs, sinking into the embrace of Kyoutani's couch slightly further and watching him set the DVD player up.

His shirt has crept just slightly up over his back, and Yahaba can see the dimples on his hips and the first bumps of his spine, and it's hard to really find it in his heart to spend time complaining. Kyoutani seems to be tanned everywhere—or at least everywhere on him that Yahaba regularly gets to see, and despite the fact that he's wearing athletic shorts that are usually loose, they're tight around the muscles of his thighs when he crouches in front of the television.

“It's not a romcom,” Kyoutani growls, focused on the tv. He won't actually tell Yahaba what movie they're watching, so Yahaba simply made his own best guess and now he's sticking with it. Kyoutani shoots a glare over his shoulder for good measure, and Yahaba laughs, flicking a piece of popcorn in his direction.

It bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor, where Nala creeps forward to snatch it up, her tail thumping against the floor. Kyoutani's eyes flick between the two of them before he simply shakes his head and gives in. “It's a good movie.”

“Do you watch a lot of romance films, Kyoutani-kun?” Yahaba teases, tossing a piece of popcorn into his own mouth. Kyoutani's lips twitch in a way that Yahaba knows means he's trying not to smile, and he lets himself bask in the small victory.

Finally, Kyoutani presses the play button, making the old DVD player hum and sputter to life. He pushes himself up, and Yahaba fixes his eyes on the screen quickly just so he's not staring at Kyoutani's thighs while he moves.

Getting caught is not really an option.

Kyoutani flops onto the couch next to him, upsetting the precarious balance that Yahaba has, the old cushions sinking and tossing them both into the center of the couch together.

This is normal, Yahaba has to remind himself. They always watch movies like this, with their thighs pressed together and both of their hands digging into the popcorn bowl. Nala curls up at Kyoutani's feet as well, and Yahaba settles in curiously to watch the movie.

It's older—a sci-fi film he hasn't seen before and wouldn't have guessed that Kyoutani was into. He bumps his elbow into Kyoutani's side, raising an eyebrow. “What's this called?”

“The Fifth Element,” Kyoutani answers, glaring at him for talking through the opening. Yahaba rolls his eyes but settles in to watch anyway.

It's a fun movie, it turns out. As soon as the ugly aliens show up and start shooting each other, Yahaba grins and tosses popcorn at Kyoutani again. “You're one of them, right?”

“Shut up,” Kyoutani answers quickly, but there's a chuckle in his tone. He glances over, and there's a smile on his face that makes Yahaba's heart jump.

It's unfair, and he looks back to the screen quickly, clearing his throat. Kyoutani nods his head. “You're the crazy guy, you know.”

“I am not!” Yahaba yelps, if only to keep himself from laughing along. But Kyoutani nods his head solemnly, digging his hand in the popcorn and pulling up several pieces to stuff in his mouth. 

It turns out to be a much better movie than Yahaba expects, not only for the movie itself but also because Kyoutani gets so distracted watching it and smiling that he leaves his hand resting in the popcorn, where it's much easier for Yahaba to brush against _almost_ on accident.

* * * 

Yahaba is laying awake in bed when his phone starts vibrating madly on the nightstand with a phone call. He groans, rolling over and snatching it quickly so he doesn't risk waking up any of his housemates with the noise.

It's late, later than he should even be awake, and certainly later than Kyoutani should be calling him on the phone.

He answers the call anyway.

“We have a practice game tomorrow, Kyoutani-kun,” he scolds, even though he himself is still awake. He has trouble sleeping before games, even now when he's a first-year on a college team, rather than the captain. Kyoutani huffs, amused.

“You never sleep before them,” he sounds tired, or maybe he's intentionally keeping his voice low. Yahaba isn't sure, but either way, it's doing nothing good for his sleep deprived brain. Kyoutani's voice is low in the first place, but the soft volume and the late hour have made it rougher than usual, and listening to him makes Yahaba's stomach feel warm in a way that it certainly shouldn't. “I figured you'd be bored.”

“I am,” Yahaba answers, resisting the urge to scold himself and instead licking his lips slightly. He's trying to think of anything but the way he's an unforgivable pervert for getting worked up over something so normal.

“We watched a documentary about birds in my class today,” Kyoutani isn't usually the one to call and talk about nothing. He's not exactly the best conversationalist, to begin with, and once he starts he sounds unsure of what he should be saying. “It was um, penguins mostly.”

“What about them?” Yahaba prompts, chuckling softly. It's nice to have someone to listen to, even if Kyoutani needs a little help getting there. Yahaba has a hand resting on his stomach, stroking his thumb over the warm skin of his own navel idly.

“They sing to each other—to find mates,” Kyoutani sounds a little more comfortable talking now that he has a topic, and that he knows Yahaba is interested in it. His voice is still low, though, huskier than usual, and he could really be telling Yahaba about anything and he would want to hear it at this point. “It's like a soul mate kinda thing. They all have perfect songs for the right mate, or some shit. I dunno how they figure out who the right penguin is.”

Even though he doesn't make the conscious choice to do it, Yahaba has a hand grinding against his dick through his boxers. He's embarrassingly hard for someone who's being told a story about penguins, but he's also far beyond caring. There's time to be ashamed of himself later when Kyoutani isn't on the phone with him

Besides, Yahaba grew up with two older brothers. What use is all the practice he has in being quiet while he jerks himself off if he never uses it?

“As soon as they lay eggs the females fuck off, though.” Well, it wouldn't be a story told by Kyoutani if it weren't phrased in such a blunt way. It almost makes Yahaba laugh, except he's still pushing his hips up into the friction of his palm so he just shifts slightly to suck in a breath instead. “The males stand in a great big circle and sit on the eggs.”

“Are you—” Yahaba pauses in what he's doing for the time it takes to get a hand inside of his boxers. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“The practice game?” Kyoutani asks, and Yahaba hums a few uneven notes in agreement. He's imagining the same deep, rough notes in Kyoutani's voice when he groans, when he mumbles in Yahaba's ear about how he wants— “Nah, not really. I mean we've played against them before, right? And we won last time.”

“Yeah.” Yahaba plants his feet more firmly onto the mattress so he has better leverage for thrusting up into the tight circle of his own fist. There's a tight knot in his stomach, part lust, and part nerves, and he's determined to force it to unravel. “What… what did you think of their ace?”

Kyoutani hums thoughtfully for a moment, and Yahaba wishes he could press himself up against Kyoutani when he makes that sound, to feel the vibration of it in his chest. He has his eyes squeezed tightly shut now, but they open again when Kyoutani picks up on his thought.

“Wasn't bad, I guess. He didn't have as much power as I was expecting but the feints were really good,” Kyoutani laughs, low and soft, and Yahaba has his thumb swiping over the head of his dick. “They had a harder time with blocking through.”

Yahaba can't piece his mind together enough to even make a sound agree, and after a moment of nothing but the soft rustling of his sheets, Kyoutani growls at him once more. “Don't tell me you fuckin' fell asleep.”

“No,” Yahaba's answer is almost too loud, but there are little tingling waves rushing down his spine at the scolding, and he almost whines when he twists his wrist, hovering unfairly close to the edge. “I'll probably be up for… awhile. I don't know.”

“You better not be,” Kyoutani snaps, and Yahaba is a thread away from doing the same. “You should be asleep already.”

“I'm—” Yahaba is so far from being able to get a grip on himself, tipping his hips up unevenly into his hand. “Fuck. Yeah, I know.”

“So go to sleep then, idiot.” It's probably just his hormone-addled mind telling him that Kyoutani sounds _fond_ when he says 'idiot'.

Either way, it's the thing that makes Yahaba's stomach unravel in a single sharp tug like his orgasm is being pulled straight out of him, and he has to muffle a single sound into his shoulder before he swallows unevenly and nods his head. “Alright. I'll see you tomorrow. Night.”

“Yeah, good night,” Kyoutani hangs up, leaving Yahaba with a mess to clean up and a head full of tangled thoughts to sort out before he can sleep.

* * * 

[12:43] **from dogbreath:** _i'm goin for a run. You coming?_

Yahaba blinks his eyes away from his textbook, a small smile curving on his face. He could use the break from theoretical economics. He sends Kyoutani a quick affirmative before digging out a pair of clean running shorts and a loose shirt.

There's a spot he and Kyoutani always meet in to for runs, near the small park that sits just outside of campus. Sometimes Kyoutani brings Nala with him, but today it's just him and one of the genuinely unforgivable muscle shirts he wears for working out.

Yahaba takes a quick second to breathe, to remind himself that he can't spend the whole time staring at Kyoutani's arms, or the way the back of his shirt exposes his shoulders to the sun.

“Are we racing this time too?” Yahaba asks, leaning over to check the laces of his sneakers. He needs something to do with himself—something that isn't wishing he were free to touch the little freckles that dot the back of Kyoutani's shoulders.

“Only if you aren't gonna complain when you lose.” Kyoutani laughs, and Yahaba rolls his eyes, giving Kyoutani a little shove with his shoulder.

“Ready?” He waits until Kyoutani nods, planting his feet firmly. He counts back from five in his head before barking out a sharp “Go!”

The two of them take off running, thought not at a sprint yet. Despite the fact that they're supposed to be racing, they fall into pace with one another, the same way they do when the whole team goes out for runs.

Unfortunately, this means that Yahaba's peripheral vision is taken up mostly by the curve of Kyoutani's bicep, the slight downward tilt of his head, the way a flush starts over the back of his neck as his heart rate increases.

Yahaba's steps falter slightly, and he doesn't feel bad for falling just a little behind Kyoutani. It's inevitable that somewhere along the way he'll get too hot and take his shirt off, balling it up in his hand while he runs, and usually Yahaba is so focused on beating him that he's never taken the time to enjoy what that view is like.

It's on the second of their five usual laps around the trail that Kyoutani pulls his shirt off, his pace barely slowing. Yahaba, on the other hand, nearly trips when his eyes get stuck traveling down the curve of his spine, catching on the muscles of his shoulders and the dimples on his hips.

On the third lap, Yahaba has forgotten about trying to catch up. He's still running, at least, just at a natural rhythm without trying to push himself for speed. He's more focused on trying not to think about pressing his fingers against those stupid dimples.

Kyoutani looks back at him with both eyebrows raised, frowning. “Are you pickin' flowers or something?”

“No,” Yahaba huffs, frowning back at him. He can't exactly explain why he's going slow, though, so with no other options, he pushes himself into a sprint to get ahead of Kyoutani.

Kyoutani chuckles and speeds up as well until the two of them are panting and using the winding trail to jockey for position.

They end in a tie, and for once, Yahaba isn't annoyed by it at all.

* * * 

'anatomy is the worst class'

The image attached to the simple message is Kyoutani, laying his cheek against his palm with a frown, and the light from his lamp casting shadows along the side of his throat and teasing a slice of his naked chest.

Yahaba drops his head against his book and tries not to scream.

He composes himself after a minute, sitting up and shaking his head with a sigh, taking a selfie with one of his eyebrows raised and a small smirk on his face. 

'fuck please just let me lick you.' He types into the text box if only to laugh at himself for not having the courage to actually send anything like that to Kyoutani.

Yahaba has his thumb hovering over the screen, considering what he should actually respond with.

It's, of course, that moment that one of his housemates drops something loud and clattering in the kitchen and makes Yahaba jump, his finger hitting the screen of his phone as he tries to steady it in his hand. He shoots an annoyed glare over to the door as if the sheer heat of his irritation might travel through it and reach his housemate.

When he looks back at the screen of his phone, Yahaba nearly topples out of his chair. Instead of his phone still being in the process of composing a new snap to Kyoutani, it's back to the inbox screen, with a helpful red arrow next to Kyoutani's name reporting that his message has been successfully delivered.

Yahaba stares at it, wondering what the most expedient way of fleeing the country might be. Watari has been certain for months that if Yahaba is going to make any headway on his crush on Kyoutani he'll have to be blunt about his feelings, but Yahaba is sure that didn't mean 'accidentally send Kyoutani a message about how you want to _lick_ him.'

The arrow goes from being solid red to just an outline, and Yahaba sets his phone down with a groan, burying his face in his hands. He has no desire to look at the screen of it ever again after this. He has no desire to ever leave his room again after this—he'll have to die sitting right at his desk, textbook still open.

His phone vibrates loudly from the wooden surface of the desk, and Yahaba peeks an eye open to stare down at it. There's a blinking yellow light, telling him that he indeed has a snapchat. From Kyoutani.

Yahaba groans, keeping his face covered with one hand and using the other to unlock his phone. He has to take several steadying breaths before he can actually make himself open the message.

When he finally manages, there's a charmingly confused image of Kyoutani's face, his brow scrunched up and his nose slightly wrinkled, and Yahaba takes a moment to consider just how unfair that is. There's no message attached to it at all, and once the image blinks off the screen, Yahaba does his best not to scream in absolute frustration.

[9:59] **from dogbreath:** _lick?? what'd you mean_

[9:59] **to dogbreath:** _nothing. I didn't mean to send that to you_

[10:00] **from dogbreath:** _who are you trying to lick_

There's no good way to get out of this for Yahaba, it seems. He sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment before he hits send on his next message.

[10:02] **to dogbreath:** _no I mean… I just meant to put a different message in_

[10:03] **from dogbreath:** _that seems like a hard one to fuck up_

Well, on that count Yahaba has to admit that Kyoutani sort of has him. He drops his phone to his lap, wondering if he should have lied and said he was trying to lick someone else. He sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face before picking it up again.

[10:06] **to dogbreath:** _you have no idea, do you???_

[10:06] **from dogbreath:** _an idea about what?_

Apparently fed up with the roundabout answers through texts, Kyoutani's number pops up on his screen as an incoming call almost immediately. Yahaba answers it with a sigh, talking without so much as a greeting from Kyoutani. “You and your stupid snapchats.”

“I haven't sent you anything weird,” Kyoutani huffs, and Yahaba is a thread away from snapping. He desperately just wants a way out of his—to not have to explain himself any further, but he knows Kyoutani is too stubborn to let him clam up. “I dunno what's up with the whole licking thing, either.”

“Oh my god,” Yahaba groans into his hands, shaking his head. “You know you never send me pictures where you're actually wearing a shirt.”

He can practically see the question marks forming over the top of Kyoutani's head. “You've seen me without a shirt literally a million times, why does that bother you?”

“It doesn't _bother_ me.” There is truly no getting out, it seems. “It's… the opposite of that. I like it… you. I like you.”

“Which is why you wanna lick me?” He sounds smug, which Yahaba supposes isn't too much of a surprise, but it doesn't do anything for his wounded pride. 

“Well, you're certainly not helping matters.” He gripes, and Kyoutani must detect the fall of his mood because he clears his throat a little.

“I. You too.” He grumbles, and Yahaba blinks his eyes rapidly, wondering if he missed something in the conversation.

“I, what?” He frowns, leaning back in his seat. “I'm not the one sending shirtless pictures all the time, Kyoutani-kun.”

“No, not that,” Kyoutani huffs and continues before Yahaba can say anything else. “I'm saying that I like you too. Obviously.”

“Oh.” Yahaba blinks, and he can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck because it was far from obvious, to begin with. He swallows, trying to make his mind kick back into gear again. “So where does that leave us?”

Kyoutani groans, loud and exasperated and the sound of it makes Yahaba smile more than he expects it to. “Dating, of course. You idiot.”

“Of course,” Yahaba repeats, with a chuckle.

* * * 

It's Monday morning, after Yahaba's last class, and he's sitting in a cafe that he and Watari visit regularly.

Only, it's not Watari he's meeting today, and he looks up from his notes when the bell over the door chimes brightly. Kyoutani walks in, looking around the small cafe with a slight blink, his head tilting to the side and his bag hanging loosely on his back.

He spots Yahaba in his seat with and smiles, walking over and taking the one across the table. “So, this is your idea of a date?”

“Did you have something better in mind, Kyoutani-kun?” Yahaba snipes back, closing his notebook and sliding it back into his bag, and he raises an eyebrow when Kyoutani nods his head.

“Yeah, a small one.” He grins just a little before he leans across the table and presses his lips softly against Yahaba's.


End file.
